


An Outlaw's Conscience

by MidEvalLight1949



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Arthur is slightly afraid of Charles, Beating, Bound, Charles gets pissed, F/M, Kidnapping, Lemoyne Raiders, O'Driscolls - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-28
Updated: 2019-02-12
Packaged: 2019-10-18 11:55:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17580353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MidEvalLight1949/pseuds/MidEvalLight1949
Summary: Upon returning from a small job with Arthur, Charles realizes his friend has been missing from the camp after sneaking off to go hunting.





	1. Chapter 1

_Ouch_.

A stinging and burning pain flared up from her stomach to her neck, her lungs hissing in a breath as she tried to shift; to move in a way to stop the ache . . . but her body refused to do so. Eyes fluttered open to a bleary and out of focus dirt floor, she blinked several times then moved her head back to stare upward where she caught sight of her bound wrists; suspended from the ceiling with a moldy and prickly rope.

“Ah shit.” She hissed.

“So, you’re finally awake, eh?” The woman snapped her head to the right with a throbbing  pain behind her eyes to see that a man was sat in the corner near the lantern, a shiny knife twisting in his fingers.

“You were out for quite a while, girl.” He stood and crossed the floor to her body in two strides.

“Thought I got a bit too rough and ended the fun before it could start.”

Green eyes fluttered shut as a wave of nausea crashed over her when his breath hit her face, shuddering when the blunt side of the knife dragged against her exposed stomach. She felt the knife turn; the chill of the sharpened edge against her flesh, jolting her eyes open with a small cry as his face inched closer to hers.

“Can’t have you falling back out when you got some talkin’ to do.” The man jerked the knife quickly across her skin, an angry blood trail left behind on her pale flesh.

“Where is Van Der Lind holed up at?” He asked calmly while putting the knife back against her skin.

“I-I don’t know.” She lied.

The knife slashed another bloody line.

“You a lyin’ bitch, you know that?” He gripped her cheeks hard with his greasy fingers. “You were with that gang, you shot two of my men and rode off with that black-red beast of a man in Rhodes. Where are you hiding!?”

_So much with trying to not be on a radar._

“Go to hell.” She hissed which earned a hard punch to the jaw and stars to dance behind her eyes.

The man that she had decided was an O’Driscoll sneered close to her face before spitting right upon her lips then punching her abdomen; making her choke for breath and gently swing from her binds. Blood spat from her lips followed by a harsh wheeze of a cough as she looked up at the O’Driscoll while he darted around the dimly lit room; looking for something that she had no idea on.

“If you won’t talk then I’ll just have some fun until you do.”

She screamed as loud as her dry throat would let her.

“Her tracks end here.” Charles mumbled as he stood up from the disturbed dirt, watching the wind pick up and erase what little was left. Arthur groaned and guided his horse next to the seething dark skinned man.

“We’re going to find her, Charles.”

Charles jumped up and seated himself upon Taima with a growl. “I know but something just doesn’t feel right.” His lips pressed hard as he looked toward the West where he believed her track may have continued.

“I’m worried someone got her. The Lemoyne Raiders and O’Driscoll’s have been quieting the last few days and she rarely went on jobs, no one should recognize her.” His heart thumped painfully at the thought of his friend in trouble. He knew he should have gone hunting with her and let Arthur go alone for that easy job.

“We’re going to find her.” Arthur repeated with a clip to his tone. “We’ll split up, cover more ground and search any camp we come across; right now, that’s our best plan.”

“You’re right. You head East, and I’ll check West, it looks like her tracks may have gone either way.”

Arthur nodded and kicked his horse into a gallop away from Charles, his gun in hand and held at his thigh. Charles watched until he disappeared over a small hill before kicking Taima to a gallop and following the phantom tracks that he hoped brought him back to his friend.

“Where is Van Der Lind!?” The man screamed as he grabbed a fistful of the woman’s hip, gripping like a bear trap and twisting his wrist until a squeal ripped passed bloodied lips.

“I don’t know! I promise I don’t know!” She tried to keep her lie, she bled and cried for it and she prayed she could keep it up long enough. He gripped her flesh and twisted it once more, tears popping from her eyes and trailing clean down her bloodied and dirty face. She could feel the bruising erupt under his fingers and it felt like he was twisting her insides as well.

“Liar!” He bellowed with a blow to her chest. “Quit lyin’ to me and this could all be over.”

“I’m not lying.” She sobbed. “I swear it.”

The O’Driscoll gripped her sobbing face in both hands with a mockery of tenderness, stroking away the tears he caused from her flesh. “Why protect them? They’re not coming for ya. Don’t even know where to look.”  
  
Lips trembling and eyes closing, her gut knew he was right. They were running low on food and she wanted to go hunting; Charles was leaving on a job with Arthur and he had told her to wait, that they could survive till the next morning. She didn’t listen and went hunting once they were far enough away.

She didn’t want to think about him coming back to camp and her still be missing but the image in her head hurt her heart. He must be worried or even upset that she went out on her own, all she wanted was for him to show up and give her a verbal beating; she would gladly accept that than this.

“It doesn’t matter if they come or not.” She sniffed a sob back before locking eyes with the grimy rat of a man. “I ain’t telling you shit.”

O’Driscoll sneered and pressed his nose to her bloodied one, locking his eyes to hers before rearing back and slamming his forehead upon her own; an echoing _crack_ danced on the air she lolled her neck backwards, eyes shut, and lips parted out cold.

Charles snarled at the pleading man in his grasp, hands up in surrender and eyes closed in hope that the danger of an angry colored man would just disappear. He trembled and whimpered, cracking his eyes open to see that Charles was indeed, still there.

“I don’t know what yer talking about, mister.” He pleaded. “I set up camp yesterday and I haven’t seen no lone woman, I swear.”

Charles didn’t like nor wanted that answer and with a yell he slammed the man to the ground, him shuffling backward toward his tent kicking up dust with his speed.  He wanted to kill something, he wanted to kill this man that shuddered before his height and he could see it in his eyes, he wasn’t telling him something.

“You better not have seen her cause if you did, I’ll come back for you.” Eyeing the small camp for only a moment, he spotted something that he didn’t before. Lying underneath a coat that was disturbed from his shuffling; a light tan saddle bag that he recognized.

Stomping forward and snatching the saddle bag Charles noticed that the strap was cut, and the other half was missing; peeling it open he saw it emptied but there drawn on a worn and yellowed tag was small wolf; the same little wolf he drew for her.

Snapping his gaze back toward the man and stepping forward to strike him across the face with the leather, he snatched him back up from his collar; the man now weeping.

“Didn’t see no lone woman, huh? Why do you have her saddle bag!?”

“I didn’t take it, it was given to me I swear!”

“Bullshit!” Charles roared. “How did you come of it!?”

The man cried harder. “It was given for silence. A group of men rode past with a woman slung over a horse, unconscious around sunset and they told me she was a bounty. I asked to see a wanted paper, but they threw me the saddle bag and told me to shut up and keep what was in it.”

Charles was seething, an anger was building in his stomach so hot he feared he could choke. She was ambushed and taken by someone and his gut was saying it was someone who wanted information on the gang. It could either be the Lemoyne Raiders or the O’Driscoll’s but who ever it was, Charles was going to kill them.

Snatching the whimpering feller closer, he could only hiss out. “Which way?”

“They were going that way.” He pointed north west from his little camp. “They weren’t traveling fast so they must be in this area somewhere. Please, forgive me, I meant no grievance.”

He wanted to let the man free, but his rage was so red hot that he tossed the man down, snatched his shotgun from his thigh holster and shot the man in the chest with a roar, his whimpering and crying turning to gurgling before falling silent.

Blood had splattered upon his shirt and face, but he couldn’t bring himself to wipe it off, he was going to bathe in it once he found this camp. With a running start he mounted Taima and rode as hard and as fast as he could in the direction that was pointed; not bothering waiting for Arthur, he was sure the gun shots would lead him.

“Wake up, bitch.” An echoed voice called out and a splash of liquid hit her face. Keeping her eyes closed and trying to rouse herself, the burning soon followed as whatever that liquid was it stung the wounds upon her skin.

“Momma use to say, ‘whiskey fixes everything.’” The O’Driscoll laughed before taking a swig from the large bottle, belching out once it was removed from his lips.

“You disgusting, pig.” She hissed and spit a mixture of blood and whisky from her teeth. That only made him laugh and push her arms, turning white from the blood draining down and watched her sway on her tip toes. Her shoulders were screaming, her wrists were raw by now from the hot sting of open flesh against the rope and she felt like she could throw up at any moment.

She ready for them to just kill her. Having no idea how long they’ve been at this, she was ready to close her eyes and just go to sleep. Even passing her mind of just telling them where they were camping and be rid of it but the guilt in her conscience was heavy.

_You’re a part of a group, a gang and you are family._

_Family doesn’t rat family._

“Are you ready to tell me now?” Gripping her tattered shirt, he pulled her closer. “We can be done with this, I’ll even give you a horse to ride out on.”

She laughed at that, the false truth so sour to her ears. “You a lyin’ bitch, you know that.” She repeated his words from before, letting out a shaky and coughing laugh as his face soured. The O’Driscoll’s lips thinned in rage, his arm rearing back to strike her but the sound of gunshots from outside and men screaming caused him to stiffen before bolting through the entrance.

Watching the rat disappear around the corner finally she could breathe a sigh and drop her pounding head forward and rest her chin to her chest. Silently she prayed and hoped that whatever was going on, it would work in her favor.

Charles yelled out as he ducked behind the boulder he was covering behind, reload his shot gun before he sprang up and shot down more of the men running around the small camp beside a mountain. He counted at least fourteen men in total, more than he wished to handle but all he saw was red as he gunned each man down.

“Eavan!” He screamed while shooting a man in the chest that ran at him. “Eavan! He called once more.

“You made a big mistake running in here like a bat outa hell, you black-red bastard.” A man stepped out that Charles recognized as a Lemoyne Raider he had a run in when they first relocated to Shady Belle; running into his group when they were leaving Rhodes.

Now Charles remembered, he had Eavan with him that day and when they were ambushed, she took out a couple of his men, lost her horse and they rode away together on Taima. He must have been waiting to find her on her own near the town. That son of a bitch,

“Where’s is she?” He growled, stomping toward the raider with his shotgun ready.

“You have tough lady.” The raider smiled. “Did my very best to get her to talk of your location, all she did was scream.” He smiled toward the dark-skinned man, his yellow teeth becoming bright in the camp fire light.

He went to taunt Charles a bit longer but the feeling of cold flared his back and a breath to the back of his neck. Raising his arms up and looking over his shoulder, he noticed another man was behind him with his gun ready to shoot him half. Arthur huffed and coughed lightly, spitting on the back of the man’s shirt; pressing his gun deeper into his spine.

“Open your mouth one more time and I’m shooting it. Where’s the girl.” It wasn’t a question and it was this that the Raiders stomach dropped in terror, knowing that his fun was up. Mustering up enough courage to point his nose toward the small cave at the back of his camp, he hoped that his luck would be enough that he could get away when the time was right.

“She’s back there, in that little cave opening at the base of the mountain.”

Charles sneered at the man Arthur held at gun point and stomped toward the small clearing where a cave did reside. It was smaller than a bear’s den but big enough for him to crouch at the opening and jump into a dip where he could stand. Lanterns were scattered around, and bed rolls were sprawled across the floor, blood splatters here and there making his stomach flipped.

_“Ch . . .Charles.”_

Whipping around at the low whisper, he felt himself go slack and breath hitched in his gut. There, hanging from bloodied wrists was his dearest friend. Eavan was hung up like she was a deer ready to be gutted, red hair matted in her braid from sweat and blood and face so bloody beaten it was a wonder how her eyes were still opened.

Her shirt tattered with knife slice wounds decorating her skin; some still oozing and leaving trails down her muddy riding pants. His heart shattered.

“Oh Eavan.” He Whispered and holstered his gun before gently grasping her face, wiping away the dried tears and blood from her sore flesh. “You stupid, stupid woman you never listen.”

She smiled. “I know, I’m a fool.” Groaning she watched Charles unsheathe his hunting knife while holding one arm around her waist, the other sawing at the thick rope; giving away after a few slices and just like lead Eavan’s arms collapsed. A cry coughed out when her feet hit firmly on the ground, her knees buckling before they went limp, glad that Charles had held her up while he cut the rope away.

Holding Eavan’s exhausted body upright with a strain to his shoulder, Charles sheathed the knife and situated her knees on his arms, hoisting her up like she weighed no more than a sack of flour and held her close. The rush of blood to her body had made Eavan lightheaded and nauseous, her gripping Charles’ shirt with a groan.

“I know, just hold on.” He said as calm as he could before yelling “Arthur!”

 _“You sit yer ass right here.”_ Came the distant voice and soon a tied body was tossed near the opening of the cave, Charles jumping slightly at the loud impact.

Arthur soon crouched and peered into the short opening, blue eyes falling on Eavan held tight to Charles. “Is she okay?”

“She’s hurt, how bad I don’t know yet.” He shifted her slightly toward Arthur. “Here, try and slide her to you; I can’t climb out while holding her.” As gently as he could he placed Eavan’s numb feet to the ground, still supporting her by her trembling waist.

“C’mere girl, I got ya.” Arthur smiled and hooked his hands beneath her arms and with Charles' hands sliding from her waist to her thighs, he hoisted Eavan up while Arthur guided her out of the opening, the beaten girl crying out as her stomach was dragged across the gravel. “Ah shit.” She moaned and tried to move her legs, but she was just too tired, letting Charles do the work of pushing her toward Arthur.

“There she is.” Arthur drawled as he eased up from his crouch with Eavan held tightly to him, moving an arm to situate around his neck as he held her by the waist. He held her close and could feel the warmness of fresh blood from her hip and stomach. Dragging her across the dirt had reopened her freshest wounds.

Charles heaved himself from the low opening and crawled only a second before being able to stand outside the cave, hands reaching for Eavan’s lolling head that bounced against Arthurs shoulder.

“I don’t feel good.” She whispered and took a deep sigh, closing her eyes as Charles cupped her face, gently forcing her to look at him. She was exhausted and the wounds she sustained were draining her energy and fight to stay awake.

“I know, I know.” He whispered as he took her from Arthur, lifting her from her feet and carrying her to Taima who waited patiently beside Arthur’s Arabian. As gently as he could he lifted Eavan onto the saddle, Arthur even standing on the opposite side to grab her hoisted leg; guiding her to sit properly on the saddle. By now she was in hysterics, sobbing as her aches and wounds were lit a fire and Taima’s mane didn’t quiet them.

“What about ’im?” Arthur asked while shooting a glare to the Lemoyne Raider tied at the opening of the cave. “The bastard tried to jump me for my gun, we could tighten the ropes and leave him for the wolves.”

Charles stared hard at the man who was trembling in the dirt, fear crossing his face for the first time tonight as the two outlaws contemplated their choices. Turning to look at Eavan slumped against Taima’s neck, arms gently wrapped around the horse that barely moved in fear of the woman slipping off. She didn’t deserve this, she never did and for this asshole to hunt her, use her and torture her for any type of information; he didn’t even deserve the wolves.

Snapping his hunting knife from its sheath and sending a look toward Arthur, Charles stomped toward the Raider who now began screaming; struggling with his binds as Charles fisted as much of his short and greasy hair as he could.

The Raider screamed and begged the dark-skinned man, tears falling down his face when Charles raised his knife to the skin above his eyebrows and began sawing back. Soon his greasy hair became slippery and Charles had to fight to pull it back, but he relished in every moment.

Arthur cleared his throat with a small cough and turned away from Charles; who hunched over the man with his arm sawing wildly back and forth. Just seeing his bound feet flounder was enough to turn his stomach at the sight. Charles was never this brash, never this vindictive and sure as hell never scalped anybody in the year that he’s known him.

_“Scalping is a barbaric punishment that my people were known for. I don’t know if its because of being only half but, I never had a taste for doing that to someone; no matter how much they deserve it.”_

Hearing Charles’ own voice in his mind of that conversation they had not too long ago made seeing this Charles before him seem like a nightmare. Craning his neck up to Eavan atop Taima, arms now dangling limply at the horse’s neck, skin covered in cuts and marks, no telling what else is hidden on her it was then that he knew.

Charles was furious when they returned to camp and she wasn’t there and when Sean finally told them that she had gone hunting early the day before with no word, he was worried sick. Damn near snatching Arthur before he could properly sit on his cot to help find her. Gently he placed his hand upon Eavan’s still knee and squeezed it, patting it softly with a smile.

“You lucky, lucky girl.” He smiled before adding. “You ain’t ever going hunting again.”

After several minutes the Raider’s screams dulled down to gasping whimpers and Charles finally stood straight to his full height, chest heaving in rage as he kicked the down man who continued to sob.

“A grown man can live a week without a scalp with proper medical care.” He sheathed his hunting knife. “You won’t find that out here.” With that he tossed the scalp into his satchel the turned to stomp back toward his horse, Eavan limply sprawled upon her neck. With a grimace still plastered upon his face, he went to mount Taima but Arthur snatched his arm before he could jump.

“What happened to ‘not having the taste’ for scalping, Charles?” He locked eyes with his friend and gripped his arm tighter. “We could have just shot him or left him, don’t jeopardize your conscience for that bastard.”

Snapping his arm from Arthur’s grip Charles mounted Taima with a swift jump, easing Eavan to lay against his front. Wrapping one arm tight around her waist and the other gripping the reigns, he sent one more sneer down to Arthur.

“It was jeopardized the moment I found her hanging.” Steering Taima to the right he called over his shoulder. “See you back at camp.” With that he kicked Taima to shoot forward at a pace that was quick but smooth enough to keep Eavan on the saddle, disappearing into the trees toward Shady Belle.

Arthur sighed and turned to stare at the moaning man that was still alive, wiggling and floundering upon the dirt with a silent wail to his lips; his face now completely covered in his blood that continued to pour from his scalp.

He looked at his horse then back to the Raider and cursed when he made up his mind, stomping over the man he drew his pistol; a single gunshot echoed loudly on the air and he knew that Charles must have heard it.

He understood his anger and the cause for it, but he couldn’t leave the man like that.

Even an outlaw can have a conscience.

 


	2. He Would do it All again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charles had to keep away from Eavan while she healed, his rage at her kidnapping still too hot.
> 
> Be prepared for some smut for our third and final chapter.

Charles barreled straight into camp without greeting Lenny, who was standing watch near the courtyard to the mansion. He didn’t pay no mind to any of the gang, but Karen and Mary Beth had run up to him once he brought Taima to stop at the hitching posts.

“Eavan? Is that Eavan!?” Karen yelled as she went to put her hands on the unconscious girl but jerked her hands back when Charles sneered down at her. Raking her eyes over the dark man upon the horse, she saw that his hands and forearms where covered in blood, his shirt stained to the point there was no saving it. He looked like a beast; an angry beast.

“Charles.” Mary Beth called gently. “What happened?”

He didn’t give a quick answer and swung his leg behind him to jump from Taima, reaching up and as easy as he could he slid Eavan from the saddle until she all but fell into his arms; head lulled back and arms dangling limply.

If it were for the small rise and fall of her chest, she could be a part of the dead. “Lemoyne Riders.” He growled and shifted Eavan more comfortably in his arms. “We had a run in a few weeks ago with a group, they waited for her to be alone.” With that he stalked toward the house and only picked up speed when the other members started to crowd around him, all wanting to see what was done to one of their own.

“Oh, thank god!” An Irish drawl broke through the whispers, Sean running up and Charles was not in the mood. “You found her! Are you alright, Lass?” he went to touch Eavan’s cheek, but Charles yelled out a roar and slammed his booted foot to Sean’s shin, the red-haired man crumbling to the ground.

Charles went to kick him once more, but a small hand gripped his shoulder and desperately tried to yank him back, fingernails dug into his skin making him jerk his head from Sean lying on the ground holding his bruising leg to lock eyes with Miss Grimshaw, who held a stern expression but softened.

She squeezed his shoulder once more. “Charles, we need to lay her down. I’ll look after her and tend to whatever injuries she has.” She leaned closer to whisper to him. “You need to calm yourself. Lay her down and leave her to me and the girls, come now; go on.” Shooing Charles into the debilitated mansion, she called for Karen and Mary to follow.

Stomping up the stairs and kicking the door open, Charles side stepped Dutch; not giving him a moment to ask about Eavan before climbing the stairs to where her room was located on the third floor. Hugging Eavan close he popped her door open with his shoulder and as gently as he could; laid her on the old and worn mattress, a groan whimpering from her throat.

“Charles. . .” She groaned and reached for his arm once he began to pull away. Green eyes slowly opened to peer up, but her vision was so blurry that he was only a dark shadow before her.

“Hush.” He whispered while gripping her hands softly. “You’re back at camp now and Miss Grimshaw will be with you for the night.” His stomach lurched when new tears welled in her eyes, falling in thick trails as her throat struggled to pass a sob.

“I didn’t say anything.” She hiccupped. “I – I didn’t tell them anything.” By now she was hysterical, her body shaking and broken breaths of sobs choking her as she cried.

Charles closed his eyes with a sigh before leaning to his knees to place his forehead to her own, an action that he did with her as a show of comfort when she needed it. She sobbed against him, arms weakly trying to wrap around his own but fell back upon the bed when she felt his lips to her sore skin.

“I know.” He sighed against her forehead before pulling back to wipe away the new flow of tears. “I know you didn’t.” She went to say something else, but he tapped her chin lightly with a blood-stained finger, her lips sealing with a tremble.

“You need to rest now, we’ll talk more later.” With that he stroked her cheek once more before standing up right as Miss Grimshaw walked in. Giving Eavan one more look, Charles turned and bypassed Karen and Mary-Beth toward the steps; skipping a few until her reached the foyer.

There, it was Micha who walked through the door with a mocking sneer to his lips. Charles didn’t want to deal with the blond-haired rat of a man, going to walk around him but when he opened his mouth Charles’ hand paused on the door knob.

“Your girl didn’t rat us out, did she?” Micha removed his hat and wiped away invisible dust before placing it back on his head.

“I wonder what they did to make her talk.” Micha smirked when Charles snapped around to glare at him, seeing that his words were irritating the dark-skinned man.

“Eat shit, Micha.” Charles growled and jerked the door open and shuffled down the porch steps with many pairs of eyes staring at him. Micha snorted but followed down the steps, thumbs in his pant loops as he hoisted them up slightly.

“Need to take precautions, Boy! Can’t be having your lady talking and leading the enemy to our camp!” At that comment Charles snapped around, threw his hand in his satchel and tossed the still wet bloodied scalp at Micha, the flesh slapping against the white denim of his ranch pants. By now the rest of the gang had gathered to see what was transpiring and all watched as Micha jumped up, grasped the hair of the scalp and jerked it to the dirt with disgusted grunt.

“No one followed us.” He sneered. “I made sure of it. Now back off and fuck off.”

“Charles.” Tilly mumbled and went to place her hands on his forearms, but he snapped them back. “What did you do?”

“Something I’ll do again if Micha keeps talking.” At that he turned and finally stalked away from the group to the lake that was located behind house just as Arthur rode back into camp. He watched Charles break through the group, merging with the shadows of the setting sun, groaning as he swung off his horse and prepared for the questions the group no doubt had.

“Arthur!” Dutch called and gently pushed passed Javier and Tilly. “What in the hell happened?”

Tossing his hand in a shrug he rubbed his neck. “Lemoyne Riders ambushed Eavan the other afternoon, kept her in a small cave where they tried to get her to talk. Charles was the one that found her hanging, hasn’t been in his right mind since.”

Micha shoved through to stand beside Dutch, Arthur’s eyes immediately falling to the blood smear down his leg. “You need to get a handle on your damn rabid Injun!”

“Oh, shove it Micha.” Arthur sneered. “You insensitive bastard.”

“Enough, both of you!” Dutch yelled. “Did she talk, Arthur? Did she tell them where our camp was? If so, we need to deal with it now!”

“No that’s enough, Dutch.” Hosea had appeared to stand beside Arthur, hoping to diffuse the tension. “If she did talk, which I think she didn’t, we would be swarming with riders by now. Set up a patrol, Javier and Bill will watch the woods. Let’s call it a night and all of us calm down!”

Arthur sent another glare toward Micha before stomping off to follow after Charles, the whispers and mumblings of the camp fading behind him. He was worried for his friend, he knew that he and Eavan were close; possibly closer than he originally thought to send him into a rage and keep him in a rage even back at camp.

Passing the house and seeing something glisten before the steps, Arthur spotted the scalp folded upon the ground and smirked; so that’s where that blood stain on Micha’s pants came from. Leaving the discarded flesh to the ground, Arthur breathed deeply taking in the cool night air as he let his feet take him to Charles who was angrily scrubbing his hands in the lake.

With the occasional grunt and small curse coming from Charles, Arthur silently set himself down beside his friend; watching the ripples extend out into the water from the splashing. It was when a chough scratched his throat, hand flying to his mouth did Charles side eye the blond man; sighing deeply and pausing his hands in the water.

Arthur cleared his throat, turning his head to the side and spitting. “You were a lot angrier tonight than you were with the buffalo. Want to talk to about it?”

Charles scoffed. “There’s nothing to talk about.” Sneering at the water and clenching his fists he turned his eyes to Arthur. “They took my woman and they paid for it.”

Arthur’s eyebrows raised with a smirk. “Oh, so she’s your woman, eh?”

“Shut up, Arthur.” He groaned and pulled his hands to wipe them dry upon his pants. “When she wasn’t in camp when we got back, I’ve never felt more nervous in my life. If I’m not around her, I can’t protect her.” He paused and lowered his eyes to his still stained hands.

 “I can’t get the image of her hanging there out of my mind.” Charles mumbled, submerging his hands once more.  

 “You can’t protect her forever, Charles.”  

“Look at what happened tonight because I wasn’t by her side!” the dark-skinned man was fuming and clenched his fists. “If I see her again like she was tonight, I’ll massacre a whole town.” Dark eyes turned to Arthur’s blues and he could see emotion swirling in them, an uncertain emotion.

“I’d kill for her all over again, Arthur.”

Charles was the most stoic out of the gang, easily trapping his emotions and only letting them slip when they needed to be. He couldn’t trap his emotions when it came to Eavan, he loses all control when he feels she’s in trouble and will let it be known to everyone that the red-haired woman is very dear to him. Arthur could understand that, he had felt it at once with Mary.

“I think.” Arthur grunted while standing from his seat upon the ground. “You two need to have a talk. You can’t keep trying to keep her in your palm and her not knowing exactly why.” With that Arthur patted his shoulder and went back to the mansion to finally lay down and sleep.

A few days had passed, and Charles hadn’t been in to see Eavan since he brought her back to the camp. Her bruises were starting to darken, a sign of them slowly starting to heal; her skin was no longer agonizing to the touch and the dark circles around her eyes and nose were now a bright shade of yellow and purple.

Lifting her shirt and pulling the bandages back on her belly, she saw the cuts were now scabbing over and would soon no longer need to be covered. The only issue she had was she couldn’t stay on her feet for very long, the pain in her skin shooting up her ankles to her thighs made taking small steps seem difficult.

Sighing and leaning back on her pillow, the small click of the door knob made her turn her head; watching as Tilly waltzed in and shut the door.

“Well look at you sitting up and looking good.” Placing a small bucket of water and cloth on the table she turned back to Eavan. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m ready to get up and move.” Eavan sighed with a stretch. “Have you seen Charles today?”

Tilly shook her head as she wet the rag. “I’m afraid not, he left this morning to go hunting with Arthur, we was low on food this week.”

Eavan hummed and dropped her eyes to her hands that rested in her lap. Was he mad with her? No, he couldn’t be that mad with her; upset probably at that she didn’t listen and snuck off to go hunting when he and Arthur had left for that job. She sighed and leaned further back into the pillows when Tilly went to lift her shirt to wipe at the knife wounds; nodding happily when she saw that they were no longer the angry red around the cut.

“You’re healing really well, if you have the strength, we can go take a walk around the camp; getting you some fresh air would be the best.”

Eavan couldn’t have tossed the blanket from her legs fast enough, swinging her left to the side of the cot and holding her hand out to Tilly for her assistance. The dark colored girl grasping her arms and heaving her to stand, Eavan groaning as her blood immediately rushed down her legs, leaving her feet to tingle with a dull ache.

“There you are, let’s go.” At that Tilly held her arm firmly as she walked to the door, pushed it open and Eavan made a bee line to the stairs; albeit dragging Tilly with her as the descended to the foyer.

“Well look who it is!” Eavan raised her head and saw Hosea walking toward her with open arms.

“Finally, up and at ‘em, how do you feel?” He gave her quick hug which she returned with a squeeze.

“I feel better, much better now that I’m out of that bed.” Eavan smiled before looking around the camp, seeing everyone doing their respective chores. “Is Charles back? I need to talk to him.”

Hosea shook his head then put his hands on his waist. “Not yet I’m afraid, it could be a day long hunt; not very good hunting grounds around these parts.” At that Eavan deflated with a long sigh before pulling Tilly’s hands from her arms. Her eyes began to sting and with a soft mumble to Tilly that she ‘will be fine walking her own for a while’, she took the bannister at the porch steps and shakily descended them.

Tilly sighed. “She knows that Charles hasn’t come see her since he brought her back.” She looked at Hosea who also watched Eavan limp to the lake.

“I’ve spoken to Charles.” Hosea breathed. “He said every time he looks at her, he sees her hanging in that cave. He needed a few days to clear his head, they’ll come around soon, I’m sure.”

Tilly nodded with a sigh before turning away from her friend, Eavan inching herself to the ground to sit before the water; legs stretching out and hands lacing in her lap. She appeared so small as she sat watching the rippling waters quietly lap at the dirt, fingers twisting and fingernails picking at the dead cuticle skin.

Her stomach knotted and twisted with a grumble, but she wasn’t hungry; no, not yet. She hadn’t had an appetite since she first woke up a few days ago; seeing that Charles wasn’t there or had not come to see her had made her feel a bit ill.

 _He was made at her._ Her mind kept repeating to her.

Eavan sighed wiped her nose that started to run along with her eyes. She wanted to talk to him, apologize for sneaking off to go and hunt and not telling anyone; wanted to tell him that if he wanted to stay at camp, she would do so just for him to not be mad.

“Eavan.” A low voice spoke behind her and with a quick swipe to her eyes she turned saw Charles standing behind her, dried blood on his shoulder the sign of a successful hunt. She went to stand, went to hug him but he held his palm out for her to stayed seated and instead joined her on the dirt before the water.

He smelled like the earth mixed with pine sap and it calmed her racing nerves, but her eyes still watered; in shame? She wasn’t sure.

“How are you feeling?” He asked lowly and turned to look upon her bowed head and fidgeting fingers.

“A lot better than I was.” She swallowed and then turned her wet green gaze toward him. “I’m so sorry Charles, I shouldn’t have snuck off. I just wanted to do something for the group to show that I’m no burden.” She tried to think of something else to say but his gaze on her shut her up.

He didn’t look angry, he wasn’t sneering like does with Micha but there, swirling his dark eyes was an emotion that she was only slightly familiar with. Reaching for her hand she met him halfway and gripped his fingers so tight that he released them only to lace them together; relishing in her tight grip with a sigh.

“I’m not angry with you and you’re no burden, you never were.” Dark eyes locked with hers.  
  
“When we had that run in with that Rider a few weeks ago, I was nervous to take you out of camp or you go out on your own. I’m sorry if I made you feel like you were a burden, I just wanted to keep you near me and safe.” A long sigh escaped his lungs and he turned his gaze toward the water, finger still tightly interlaced.

“When I found you, it was like going through a dark tunnel.” He gripped her fingers. “You looked so helpless, so lifeless that I couldn’t reason the rage down until I killed every last one of them.”

At that Charles pulled her tightly to his chest, wrapping her arms round his neck and circling his own around her waist. She gripped him like a vice hiding her face in his neck as she quietly cried, her fingers threading through his loose hair.

Charles took a shaky breath. “Every time I saw you lying in that bed asleep, I saw you hanging in that cave bloodied and bruised; making me want to kill those bastards all over again.”

He paused for a moment, but his next confession made her heart skip. “I love you too much to see you like that again.”

At that Eavan couldn’t hold them back. Gripping his neck almost to the point of choking him, she cried into his shoulder, relishing in his soothing circles and caresses upon her back as he whispered into her ear how much he loved her.

She loved him too. She had since she first met the dark colored Native man and hearing him say that he shared the same feelings, all the pain she had felt before seemed to melt away and it was just the two of them; holding each other until the sun set.

 


End file.
